


Always Mine

by BluKrown



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 09:21:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13877895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluKrown/pseuds/BluKrown
Summary: I wanted to write this dark one, but I do want to write a proper fluff one later on at some point cos I can really see either happening really.I'm also not sure what tags to put it under . . . if you guys have suggestions please comment@BluKrown on twitter and tumblr





	Always Mine

Ryo always knew Akira was his. He always did.

Even though Akira would go off and fuck, whether prostitutes, classmates or childhood friends. Akira never stayed. He never settled. Apart from one.

Ryo knew he was the exception, he always was.

He knew he was the only one Akira came back to, each time they did it. Akira never stopped returning. Because Ryo knew, Akira was his.

Ryo knew Akira was his, before Devilman. Even as children, even though Akira made new friends, he would never not return to Ryo. Although, occasionally, Ryo needed to nudge that alone. But that was to only empathise that Akira was his, and his alone.

Even now, with Devilman saving the human race from demons, he was still only his.

That is not to say, Akira was always by Ryo’s side. No.

Akira had to think he was not Ryo, so then he could truly be his.

Ryo let Akira think he had control, let him think he could do as he pleased. Pretend that he’s angry at Ryo for lying to him, for betraying him, for destroying the things he loved. But even if it took days, weeks, months, or even years. Akira always came back.

Even when he was intent on killing Akira’s close friend Miki, a gun to her head and Akira savagely defending her. His glare, tears and the blood dripping down his face would tell anyone else that Akira was no longer his. And although Ryo went home alone that night, it was not long before Akira came to see him once more.

Whenever Akira stayed away, his return was always spectacular.

He would come back, perhaps they would exchange a few words or two, snide remarks or mocking retorts, but they always found themselves in the same place.

Akira would slam Ryo into a wall or floor or door or anything, thinking he was the one stopping Ryo from escaping. Thinking he had all the control as he slammed his lips to his. Thinking he was in charge when he slid his tongue into Ryo’s mouth. Thinking he was in charge when his hands would tug and rip at Ryo’s clothing until his hands could find skin.

Ryo found it flattering. And he never objected to Akira leading.

Akira did not mind where they did it, in a car, on the motorbike, on a couch, a table, a bed, a roof, a pool, anywhere goes. As long as it was the quickest way to get to Ryo.

His calloused hands would scape over Ryo’s back, tuck under his pants to grope at Ryo’s ass to make the blonde moan. His breath would be uneven and a mess, audible huffs coming from his throat as he tried to ignore the small bit of rebellious attitude Ryo had, as he ground against Akira’s front. One leg would soon tuck in between Ryo’s to stop this and rub against his erection to stop him from getting too cocky.

Akira would pull his lips away from Ryo’s lips, find his way down his neck to mark what he thought was his territory. Peppering small marks and bites on the pale boy’s throat as if threatening to bit down further.

His hands would then get impatient, angrily tugging down on the fabric of Ryo’s pants, urging them to come off, usually either being ripped off or Ryo would manage to untie or unbuckle in time to save that fabric from destruction. Which would then follow with the hands becoming desperate.

The fingertips pressing into Ryo’s skin to near bruising, like if Akira would not hold hard enough Ryo would slip away.

Changing scenery was too impractical and wasteful of time by this point. Akira soon only lifting Ryo up to a wall, or settle him on a surface or seat, where Ryo was accessible enough to Akira next steps.

Akira rarely prepared, he never thought to stretch Ryo or to lube him before anything. Although Ryo did not need much of either.

Akira would, however, occasionally indulge himself, licking sucking and wetting Ryo’s cock, not much caring whether the blonde would come or not, as he knew he would come again later on. 

But most of the time, it was not on his schedule. He wanted to do it. Not go on a tangent and waste time. No, he was a child in that way, always not saving the best thing for last, and spoiling himself on it until he was sick of it.

Akira did it anyway, with Ryo on his back, on his front or on his side. As it did not matter. Ryo knew all Akira wanted was have his name ring in his ears, have his cock burrowed inside of Ryo and to hear the blonde moan and groan from it.

He always got that.

He’d always find himself squeezed by Ryo’s tight and warm walls, find himself pulse and ache as he felt pale long-fingered hands scrape his nails along Akira’s back, occasionally leaving marks.

Sometimes, he would kiss Ryo, to quiet him or himself. Sometimes, he would watch Ryo, how he wriggled and groaned under or above him, watch Ryo orgasm with his eyes looking back. Sometimes, he would just close his eyes, brace himself as waves of powerful pleasure curled into his stomach and wriggle down his spine. 

Ryo would occasionally want more when Akira was not as fired up as others. To pull at his hair, to slap his ass, to close his hand around his throat and to restrict his breathing. It was not much trouble for Akira, after all, he would enjoy it too.

From time to time, Akira would talk. Swear, encourage, taunt, sob. Speak filthy words about how fucked up Ryo was for wanting this, how fucked up he was for doing this, going into detail on how it felt to feel Ryo’s walls clench around him.

It was all different, but all the same.

When white substance covered their surroundings, whether copious amounts or just a bare minimal depended on how long the two did it for, and how long they had pent up.

They would always lay together, whether on the back seat of Ryo’s car or the bed, Akira would always end up there.

Akira had explained only once that he had never stayed long with others, whether out of shame, anger or just unwillingness to interact with someone he had just fucked. Ryo did not need to know this, however, as he knew.

In any case, the two would be quiet. Perhaps with one of Akira’s hands slowly patting Ryo’s hair, or Ryo drawing a circle with his index finger on Ryo’s forearm. They did not need to talk about it.

Ryo knew when Akira regretted doing it. He would only look at the ceiling, not touch Ryo nor reciprocate when Ryo touched him. His eyebrows would be half furrowed as his eyes flickered.

Ryo knew he did not have to worry, he was not much harmed even when Akira was at his most sexually frustrated.

But either way, in those instances, Akira would leave early. Say a half bothered sorry or farewell.

This would leave Ryo watching Akira go. And unlike every single one of Akira’s other sexual partners, he knew Akira would be back.

So he did not worry, he did not fret. Because even though Akira may refuse and deny it. Akira would never leave Ryo behind, not ever again. Not when Ryo owned him.

Ryo would sometimes ponder on how pathetic all humans were. How they would try to pander and to stop Akira from leaving.

Perhaps they would promise riches, fame, sex or perhaps something even more, that Ryo just could not understand. But nothing would halt Akira.

As, although Akira may think he needed others, other humans to make his life good. Ryo knew better. All he needed was Ryo, and even deep down, Akira knew that.

That is why he always returned. Always found himself laying eyes on the old childhood friend once again.

Although Ryo had the occasional urge to try and control Akira, tell him to not go after others and to stay with him, and him alone. Not to ever touch or be touched by any other person.

But then again, one of the most satisfying things to Ryo was just the fact that although Akira may yell and swear he will never return, he always came back, running desperately into Ryo’s arms. Just where he belonged.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write this dark one, but I do want to write a proper fluff one later on at some point cos I can really see either happening really.  
> I'm also not sure what tags to put it under . . . if you guys have suggestions please comment
> 
> @BluKrown on twitter and tumblr


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